Her vision was filled with bright flares of yellow, white. Her body screamed in protest as Mærin picked herself up. Her arm was on fire. She could feel Kreia at her side, muttering curses in a language Mærin couldn't comprehend.
"That annoying gun turret got you pretty good." Atton's voice could be heard over the ringing in her ears and his arm was already around her waist, helping her stand. "You took the heroism thing too far. Can you walk?"
"I'm fine." She said, wincing as she tried to stand on her own. "But my leg isn't." Slices of metal had embedded themselves into her calf muscle where she wasn't protected and pain lanced up her leg with every step. Mærin swore vehemently, knowing how useless she would be when she was unable to walk.
"We do not have the time nor the energy to deal with that now. If you can travel, then that is all we can ask for."
"Kreia – I'll only slow both of you down. You can't expect to get anywhere with me if I can barely move – It's suicide!" Mærin glared at the old woman, willing Kreia to understand.
"I can support you." Atton said, daring to challenge Mærin's furious eyes. The old Jedi smiled at Mærin beneath her hood.
"We will not leave you behind, no matter how loudly you protest. We waste precious time bickering – Let us leave this place now." The exile shook her head in angry resignation and silently limped with Atton onto the Harbinger.